A Man in a Long Black Coat
by Psamathe
Summary: The day Molly has been dreading has arrived...


The first time Molly Drake saw him was outside the church. Wreathed in cigarette smoke, he stood and watched as the coffin was carried inside. His eyes met Molly's for the briefest of moments. She didn't recognise him but she didn't expect to. Her mother's professional life had been a closed book.

_"Panis Angelicus_

_Fit panis hominum…"_

The singer's voice filled the church, clear, sweet, pure…

_"O res mirabilis_

_Manducat Dominum_

_pauper, servus et humilis…"_

A second voice joined the first, tenor and soprano in a blending so perfect that it should have broken her heart … if her heart hadn't already been shattered into a thousand pieces. But even in the midst of her sorrow Molly Drake couldn't believe that this elaborate ceremony was what her mother would have wanted. Evan had insisted on a requiem mass, even though he knew that her mum hadn't been to church for years and Molly almost never. She mumbled half remembered phrases along with the rest of the congregation, not knowing quite when to stand, when to kneel.

The church was packed with people. Molly should have been grateful that so many held her mother in high regard but for some reason she wasn't. The only people she really knew were Evan and her Dad … but Peter Drake was sitting several rows back with his new wife. Molly glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of him but her vision was obscured by a sea of black. She was convinced that he had dragged himself here for appearances sake. Molly couldn't really think of him as her Dad… not anymore. Her grandparents had passed away a few years ago and Molly felt their loss very much… especially today. She felt numb, like her heart had stopped beating. The terrible truth was that she didn't want to be here. She had said her goodbyes in that hospital room, as she'd watched her mum slip away. No matter how much Molly had begged and pleaded the life signs had grown weaker and weaker until there was nothing left but an empty shell.

The man appeared again during communion. He ignored the line of people; he ignored the priest and walked straight up to her mother's coffin. No one dared to stop him as he laid his hand on the smooth wood. An intimate gesture. One that Molly wouldn't have dared to make. Although his head was bowed it wasn't in prayer. Whoever he was he seemed to have no fear of death or what it might bring. He stood there for a few moments before walking away and out of the church, black coat streaming behind him. Molly ached to follow but her way was blocked by Evan and she had to stay where she was until the service came to its natural end.

The last hymn was sung and her mother's coffin was carried out of the church, towards to graveyard that would be her last resting place. Molly followed directly behind, Evan hovering at her shoulder. It was almost a relief to get outside. Molly stood for a moment, taking deep breaths of the cool September air. She could just about hear the faint roar of traffic from the nearby road but apart from that it was difficult to believe they were still in London. Molly had little time to compose herself as the press of the congregation swept her forwards through the jumble of monuments and gravestones. They seemed far too eager to see her mother's coffin lowered into the ground but this was the part that Molly dreaded most of all. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had just been herself and Evan but all of these people… She felt the need to be strong, to show the world how well she was coping with all of this when really all she wanted to do was curl herself up into a ball and make the world go away.

"I am the Resurrection and the Life…" the priest began but Molly lost track of the words as the coffin was lowered into the ground. In macabre fashion, she bent forwards staring down into the earth and the words on the metal plate that she felt would be forever burnt into her mind.

Alexandra Drake.

1974-2008

Age 34

"Bye Mummy," Molly whispered.

She looked around for a hand to hold but Evan was deep in conversation with a group of people and Peter Drake was nowhere to be seen. Feeling lost and forgotten, Molly wandered away by herself. The scent of cigarette smoke caught on the wind and followed it, half scared, half thrilled by what she might find.

He was leaning against a tomb, watching the crowd of people from a distance. As Molly approached, he removed a hipflask from his coat pocket and took a gulp of its contents. She didn't say anything at first, just leant on the stone next to him, her hands shoved into the pockets of the school blazer she was wearing. The stench of whiskey was strong about him.

"Sorry about your Mum," he said eventually. His accent told Molly that he wasn't a London man, at least not by birth.

"Did you know her?" she asked.

"Yes."

"How did you know her?"

"We were friends."

"Just friends?"

Even in the midst of her grief Molly's curiosity was aroused. Her Mum hadn't had a boyfriend in almost forever. And the few Molly had met had all been nice, well presented, well spoken gentlemen. Nothing like this man with his creased suit and unkempt hair. He took another sip from his flask. She felt certain that her Mum would never have considered dating a smoker… or someone that felt the need for a tot of whiskey every five minutes.

"Were you shagging her?"

He coughed, spitting out his whiskey. Molly knew she had shocked him and she felt absurdly proud of the fact.

"Bloody hellfire…" he swore and wiped the liquid from his mouth."What gave you that idea?"

"I'm twelve, I'm not stupid. Were you?"

"None of your business."

"She… she… was my Mum."

And suddenly Molly found herself sobbing, crying all of the tears she had kept inside for so long. She felt an awkward hand on her shoulder as the man tried to offer some kind of rough comfort but Molly wouldn't be soothed, not by this stranger. Not by anyone. She just wanted her Mum back.

"I should go. My Godfather will be wondering where I am."

She was sobbing so hard that her words came out in short sharp gasps. Turning her back on the man, she stumbled away but try as she might she couldn't see Evan anywhere. Everyone seemed to have gone. So she ran and ran until she couldn't go any further until there was nothing left for her to do but sink down on one of the nearby benches. The day was silent. Nothing moved. Somehow she wasn't surprised when the man sat down beside her.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I've come to take you to your Mum," he said.

"My Mum's dead!"

"I know."

"But that means… that…"

And Molly remembered. She remembered the day her Mum died. She remembered running across the road, trying to get away from Evan, trying to get away from everything. There had been light and noise and pain. So much pain.

"I died," she whispered and started crying again. He let her weep against him for a long time, soaking up her tears in the long black coat he wore. The sky had darkened dramatically when she finally raised her head and Molly even thought she saw a hint of stars.

"Time to go, love."

She took his hand as they walked along the pavement, skipping slightly in her efforts to keep up with his long strides.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"There," he replied, indicating the building before them.

"The pub?"

"It's got a beer garden."

"And my Mum's in there?"

He nodded.

"What about you? Are you coming with me?"

"No love… not today. Now get going, she's waiting for you."

As if his words had been some kind of cue, the door swung open, blinding them both with the light that shone out. Molly caught snatches of music, a song she almost thought she knew and then a figure that she definitely did. She ran and ran as hard as she could.

"Mummy! It's my Mummy!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/


End file.
